


And Then I Found You

by simplesetgo



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F, First Time, Fluff, Marriage, Mord-Sith with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplesetgo/pseuds/simplesetgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://seeker-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://seeker-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/"><b>seeker_kinkmeme</b></a>, prompt <em>marriage bed</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then I Found You

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote K/D! I have long believed their love is nothing less than epic, but always struggled to do it justice.

Kahlan is the Mother Confessor. Kahlan is the Lady Rahl. And the Lady Rahl is hopelessly in love with one of her Mord-Sith.

And now, Kahlan Amnell is Dahlia’s wife, and Dahlia is hers.

It was a future unexpected, but so was her possession of the sole seat of power for both the Midlands and D’Hara. The burden is heavy, and Dahlia makes her stronger. Strong enough to bear it.

When her loved ones were lost to her, whether by death or different path, Kahlan mourned the darkness of life's spark within her, and resigned herself to a future spent wandering vaulted halls alone at night. And it was during such melancholy walks that she grew accustomed to spending time with a very pretty Mord-Sith at the east tower gate. And so the melancholy walks became less so, and the spark she thought had died burst brightly into flame once more.

And when Kahlan carries that Mord-Sith in her arms across the threshold of her bedchambers, their strikingly extravagant white wedding dresses constantly underfoot, they are laughing, Dahlia the loudest (which Kahlan marvels at, since she's such a quiet and intense Mord-Sith), until Kahlan deposits her soundly on their marriage bed. "I'm the Mother Confessor," Kahlan announces, "and I'm here to ravish you."

Dahlia laughs -- her face is red and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Surely she's never had a reason to, not until now. And Kahlan leans down over her, kisses her lips softly, and tendrils of something curl around Dahlia's heart and squeeze. Then blue eyes flash, and those beautiful lips fall to Dalhlia's jaw, to her neck. "We should make love in these ridiculous dresses," Dahlia says, hand stroking the side of Kahlan's face -- Kahlan turns into the touch. "It'd be an extra challenge to get through the miles of skirts." She drags her thumb across Kahlan's lips. "And the end reward...that much sweeter."

"I'm afraid I couldn't bear it," Kahlan confesses. "Come on, stand up."

Dahlia does, and they undo countless laces and layers with the patience of a Mord-Sith and the tenacity of a Confessor. And Dahlia stands nude and proud when they're finished, but Kahlan is nervous -- she trusts Dahlia, has shared what feels like countless kisses with Dahlia, but this is new and different to her, and Dahlia is much more experienced than her, and she can count the number of people who have seen her naked on one hand, and what if she bores Dahlia? What if Dahlia doesn't like her body? She hates that, when she turns to face Dahlia, she has one hand over her sex and the other arm demurely covering her breasts. "I," she starts, face feeling very hot. "Dahlia, I'm just. Could we. The lamps..."

"Shh," Dahlia soothes, and steps forward, tilting her head slightly as is her way. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," she says softly, cupping Kahlan's face in her palms. "And you are my wife. Tonight, I am the luckiest Mord-Sith to have ever lived."  
  
Dahlia kisses her then, and Kahlan melts, the sudden hesitance gone like it was never there at all. They find the bed somehow, find themselves entangled over the sheets, and their first lovemaking is hurried, frantic, and Kahlan knows she's just along for the ride. Dahlia is skilled, and her slender fingers in Kahlan's sex are _so_ far beyond what she was expecting. Kahlan's heart is threatening to pound out of her chest simply because it's finally _happening_ , really and truly. Their kisses are rough, almost too rough, but Dahlia keeps her Mord-Sith urges toward violence well in check -- Kahlan is the light of her life, not a whore to be used and thrown aside.

And the light of her life is quickly coming undone: the dark of her eyes is blowing wide, her breaths coming quick, her hips picking up motion against Dahlia's hand. And Dahlia has dreamt of this moment, both awake and asleep; she has nothing to fear, having proved her love for Kahlan what seems like long ago. Dahlia's mouth closes around Kahlan's breast, sucking gently, then more insistently, and her thumb is right where Kahlan needs her, her fingers telling Kahlan with every thrust that the end of this is inevitable.

And Kahlan breaks, a shuddering moan rising from her lips, and Dahlia feels her love for the Confessor sharpened to a fine point in her mind as a burst of magic flattens the sheets around them. Pale breasts rise and fall as Kahlan's neck arches, and Dahlia watches in shared ecstasy, memorizing everything about this moment: the feel of Kahlan's sex around her fingers, clenching, the soft scent of her perfume, the flush on Kahlan's cheeks and chest, the delicate, feminine moans she's loosing.

When her eyes slide open, they're blue again, and they go straight to Dahlia, and a coy smile forms on her lips. She tries to memorize that, too. Dahlia pushes up and kisses her. "How did we end up here?" she wonders aloud, taking Kahlan's hand in her own and squeezing. "And what did I do to deserve you?" she adds, much more softly.

Kahlan closes her eyes, sighs out laughter. "Ask me that when I have thoughts to spare. Right now I can't think of anything but what you just did for me."

"Of course," Dahlia says. "What was I thinking?" She lower her lips to Kahlan's ear. "Bedding a chaste Confessor," she teases, "leaves no room for idle conversation."

"Dahlia," Kahlan says suddenly, as the Mord-Sith begins sliding down Kahlan's body, her intentions more than clear. "Dahlia," she repeats: softer, but sharper. Dahlia looks up. "I know that I married a Mord-Sith," Kahlan says. "I know what that means. I just...I'd like to go slow, with those things."

Dahlia nods, and if she's trying to hide her keen interest in Kahlan's words she's failing miserably.

"Also," Kahlan adds, "there's something I've wanted to..."

Their positions are reversed, and Dahlia's legs are spread, and Kahlan's mouth is between them. Dahlia throws her head back, exultant, and clenches fistfuls of the sheets at her sides. "Kahlan," she gasps, as the Confessor's tongue works slowly; she's exploring, testing new waters. "Don't stop. Take as long as you want--" A moan escapes her, and her brow furrows: Kahlan immediately repeats the technique and Dahlia's hips roll. "--but just don't stop."

"There's nothing further from my mind," Kahlan promises, and Dahlia's sex feels cold until Kahlan's mouth returns. Her hands come up to cup Dahlia's breasts, finger her aroused nipples and it's fuel on the fire deep in her belly. Dahlia has dreamt of this, too, and the sheer fulfillment has her head lolling back, a smile attacking her lips once again. Kahlan's languid attentions have a purpose: she's learning, keeping track of how her tongue elicits a moan here, a thrust of her hips there, what makes Dahlia slide a hand into her hair, what makes her tighten that hand into a fist. And the taste of her wife -- Kahlan thinks it's the sweetest nectar of all.

Dahlia takes both her hands above her, holds them tight in her own and asks with a roll of her hips. Use what you know, her body is pleading, and Kahlan does. Her face reddens at the noises she's making, but Dahlia is wet and her mouth is wet and she supposes there's no way around that. She gives the Mord-Sith what she thinks she needs, and she isn't far off the mark because Dahlia cries out -- again belying her quiet manner -- and snaps her hips. "Ohh...Kahlan. My Kahlan," she moans, then sighs _deeply_.

Kahlan licks her lips and appreciates Dahlia's lazy, sated smile as she curls up next to her, resting her head on Dahlia's shoulder, tucked into the curve of her neck. There's time enough yet for lovemaking -- the night is young -- but for right now, Dahlia understands that Kahlan just needs this: a hand stroking her shoulder, and soft things whispered, things from a place inside Dahlia she thought she'd lost long ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Although not written as such, this fic fits quite nicely into the verse created in [A Measure of Peace](http://archiveofourown.org/works/235036). So if you found yourself longing for a fix-it fic for poor Kahlan, maybe this will salve things a little.


End file.
